


I'm a Loose Bolt

by Jules1398



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Depression, F/F, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, The Walking Dead AU, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1398/pseuds/Jules1398
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thomas and his younger brother, Chuck, stumble upon a blond boy in the road they suddenly become a part of a new group called the Gladers. Unfortunately, the apocalypse has ways of making everything come crashing down. Fear of the Cranks can drive people together, apart, and absolutely crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS FINALLY POSTED. Special thanks to my artist, fan-girl-it-up (link below), and all the other folks over at Newmas Big Bang.

 ([x](http://8tracks.com/adictedly56/to-the-cabin)). ([artist](http://fan-girl-it-up.tumblr.com/))


	2. The Story

"Who are you?" asked the blond boy in a British accent. His dark brown eyes were stone cold. They had an element of brokenness to them. Then again, who wasn't a little bit broken inside in the klunkhole of a world they lived in?

Thomas pushed his younger brother, Chuck, behind him so that if the blond boy were to shoot that pistol that he had firmly gripped in his hand, it would hit the older boy instead. Thomas and Chuck both had their hands in the air to show that they meant no harm. Thomas was scared, but he refused to let his younger brother see it.

"My name is Thomas Green and this is my little brother, Chuck. We're just looking for somewhere that's safe." Thomas spoke slowly, which only seemed to irritate the blond even further.

The blond boy chuckled. Thomas enjoyed the sound of his laugh, as sarcastic as it was. He hadn't heard anybody laugh in ages. "I don't really know if such a place exists."

"That's not true," Chuck quickly retorted as he stepped out from behind Thomas. He silently cursed the younger boy's bravery. "Before, we had a group. We were safe then."

The WICKED facility was built strongly and well-supplied, but even the places that are built for the worst can't survive forever.

"Then why don't you lead me to this so-called safe-haven instead of asking me to find you one?"

The blond was sarcastic. Thomas appreciated that. In fact, he found himself appreciating a lot of the blond’s features. Notably, his defined facial features and thin but muscular build.

Thomas glanced down to the ground. "It was overrun by Grievers a while ago."

Grievers. They were corpses, but somehow they had risen. Now they lived for only one purpose, to spread their disease and kill others. There were two ways to become one. Getting bit or dying. The only way to kill one or prevent turning into one was to destroy the brains, which normally meant a bullet to the skull.

"Grievers?" asked the blond, cocking an eyebrow. "What kind of shuck name is that?"

Thomas shrugged. "They cause people grief. What do you call them?"

"Cranks. They aren't people anymore. They're bent, cranked. Hence the name."

Thomas nodded. He liked it. It was an entire syllable less to say when he was referring to the monsters that were tearing the world apart.

"You're going have to start calling them Cranks too," the blond boy instructed as he ran a hand through his messy hair. His facial expression screamed 'I'm gonna regret this.'

"Why is that?" Thomas asked, unable to grasp the obvious answer. Both Chuck and the blond boy rolled their eyes.

"Don't be such a slinthead, Tommy. I'm taking you back to my group," replied the blond boy as he motioned toward the rusty, old truck behind him.

Thomas sighed in relief as the boy lowered his gun. He was very grateful in that moment, not just because the boy wasn't going to shoot them, but also because they were running low on supplies and only had one gun between the two of them.

As the boy walked, Thomas noticed that he had a limp. It wasn't unusual for injuries to heal wrong without proper medical care. He just hoped that the blond boy hadn't been bitten because that could turn everything sour awfully fast.

"Thank you -" Thomas stopped mid-sentence, realizing that he still hadn't learned the blond boy's name.

"Newt."

Newt didn't offer a last name, but it didn't really matter. In the world they lived in, your name was whatever you wanted to be called or, in some cases, whatever people wanted to call you. Last names were pointless in a lawless country.

They drove for a while. It wasn't hours away, but the place they were heading was at least a good twenty minutes out. It was sort of suspicious. Newt didn't have any supplies in the car, so he obviously wasn't out on a run. It also seemed a little far out to be scouting, especially alone. In fact, why was Newt alone? Anybody in their right mind would be able to see that going solo was perhaps the easiest way to get killed.

They stopped as they turned into a gated driveway. They seemed to be in some sort of farm, based on the small brown house and the large red barn in the distance. On their right, there was a pasture for grazing. Animals were nowhere to be seen, but they probably kept them locked up closer to the barn so that the Cranks wouldn't be able to smell them. On the left were fields of corn and wheat. The entire farm was gated in by barbed wire, metal fence, wooden fence, or some sort of makeshift mixture of the three to act as a quick fix.

There were a few people walking around, especially closer to where the house was. It was still early, so a large portion of them may have still been asleep. A few people were tending the fields. Thomas noticed that a majority of the people were younger. At least eighty percent of the people that he had seen so far had to be teenagers.

Thomas was about to ask Newt about it when he heard the gate open with a loud creaking sound. Newt pulled the car forward until they were almost at the house where two young dudes seemed to be waiting for them.

"Where were you?" the first guy commanded rather than asked. He was a tall, muscular black dude wearing an expression on his face that was a mixture of anger and worry. The guy had to be a few years older than them. Maybe about twenty.

Newt shrugged as the three of them climbed out of the car. "Went for a drive, Alby. Picked up a few kids accidentally."

"Alone?" asked the second boy, who seemed to be closer to their age as he cocked an eyebrow. Like the first boy, he was also tall and muscular, except this guy was Asian, most likely Korean, and his hair was remarkably well styled for the apocalypse. Thomas assumed that these two kids had been some really great football players back before the world went to klunk.

Newt shrugged as he tossed Alby the keys to the truck. "Slim it, Minho. We got bigger things to worry about. Like two new recruits." The blond seemed to be avoiding his question.

The Korean boy, Minho scanned them over with utter indifference. "How many times have I told you that you need to be bringing back girls?"

Newt rolled his eyes and ignored Minho's comment. "These shanks are Thomas and his little brother, Chuck."

Alby nodded, all traces of anger gone. "Welcome to the Glade. It's obviously a farm, so we expect you to pull your own weight. Especially if you want to be eating. We have to get all our food somehow."

Thomas nodded in understanding. He was willing to work if it meant that Chuck could be safe. This place wasn't as structurally sound as WICKED, but it looked like it would get the job done.

Chuck spoke with eagerness. "What kind of jobs are there here?"

"Well, first I want to establish that I'm the leader of this place, so, if you have any issues, I'm here to help. Newt is my second in command in case I'm not around," Alby told them.

"Good thing you're always around then," Newt joked, cracking a smile.

A pained expression flashed across Alby's face for a split second before he continued. "You guys really don't have the build for certain jobs. No offense."

Thomas understood. Chuck was a bit heavy for his age and height and Thomas was awfully wiry. "None taken."

Alby and Newt shared a short glance and then nodded. Newt was the next to speak. "You two will probably be sloppers. It's nasty work, but it's fairly easy and it needs to get done. Mostly just cleaning and stuff."

The blond then turned so that he was facing only Thomas. They made eye contact and the brunette felt shivers crawl down his spine, though not quite so unpleasantly. "Tommy, if you want, I can chat with Zart and Winston about other jobs for you. Zart's in charge of the Track-Hoes, or farmers, and Winston is the Keeper of the Slicers, who take care of and slaughter the animals."

"What's with all the weird names for stuff here?" Chuck asked excitedly. He seemed to be really into this new place. Thomas tried to remind himself not to get attached too quickly.

Minho shrugged. "It makes everything a little bit more fun. This place is mostly teenagers. We have to keep them entertained somehow." Thomas jumped a little when he spoke, as he'd almost forgotten that the boy was standing there.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Thomas replied. "Where's all the adults?" It was the one thing that made him skeptical about this place. It seemed like there should be people of all ages in a group this size.

"We were at boarding school when everything happened, so a bunch of us travelled together. It was an all-boys school, but there're a few girls on this farm now that we found in the area," Alby explained.

"So, no older adults at all?" Thomas was skeptical. He didn't want to meet anybody with a Jack Merridew complex, and those people tended to stand out when adults weren't around.

"Two," Newt replied. "But they mostly stick to themselves. We've got a good thing going here and we don't really need them. Don't bug them, though. They help this place run from behind closed doors."

Thomas nodded.

"Okay then," Alby said as he wiped his hands on the sides of his pants. "I'm going to leave you two to explore for a while. We're having a bonfire tonight, so be there then."

"Thank you," Thomas nodded.

And with that, their stay at the Glade begun. There was no sure way to determine what the outcome would be of their decision to stay there, but Thomas thought he was able to see brightness in the future.

 

* * *

 

They spent the rest of the day wandering around and getting to know the place. They passed by Newt a few times, and he always smiled and waved at Thomas, which, in turn, made him smile as a faint pink blush spread across his cheeks. He was grateful for the kindness that Newt had provided, even if their initial encounter wasn't quite so carefree and happy.

None of the other Gladers introduced themselves. Maybe there was some sort of ritual or something at the mysterious bonfire that they were going to have that night. The ones that seemed to notice their presence mostly reacted by whispering to one another and pointing. The others just kept working solemnly. Something must have happened to the group recently, but Thomas didn't know what.

One boy worked away from the others. He had light blond hair and green eyes. The strange thing about this boy was that he couldn't seem to stop moving. When Thomas finally caught one of those green eyes, he noticed that the boy seemed to be nervous about something. Or maybe he was just high. He was a teenager, after all.

Thomas brushed that boy aside in his thoughts as he heard a whistling sound back near the house. Thomas and Chuck headed over, wondering what it could be, only to see what had to be over fifty teenagers gathered around a fire, some of them passing out mason jars filled with a kind of amber colored liquid.

Thomas felt a pat on his back and smiled as he turned and saw Newt, who was carrying two of the mason jars. He handed one to Thomas. "Here you go, Greenie. Chuckie here doesn't get one yet. Maybe when he's older."

Chuck's little brown eyes widened when he figured out what the liquid must be.

Thomas tried to pass the jar back to Newt. "No, I can't, I've never-"

Newt rolled his chocolate brown eyes. "Just drink up, Tommy. It's moonshine, but Gally makes pretty good stuff."

Thomas took a sip and immediately sputtered it everywhere. It was really strong. He teasingly gave Newt a dirty look.

The blond just shrugged in response. "It's an acquired taste."

There was a loud whistling sound followed by and shout of, "Everybody listen up!" Thomas turned to see a tall boy with the best eyebrows ever standing on top of a log near the fire. He had a somewhat commanding presence, like that of a dictator. Thomas was happy that this kid wasn't in charge.

"Tonight, we drink and party, but first we have a few business matters to take care of."

Every single kid was silent. Over fifty teenagers, and every single one was listening to his words. This must have been something significant to them. Thomas decided to shut up too. No use in making a fool out of himself on the first night.

"First of all, we need to remember all those we have lost, whether it was recent or long ago. Whether it was to the Flare or of something else. Many innocent lives were lost and we need to pay our respects to them."

"To the dead!" shouted nearly everybody, holding their jars into the air. Most were still nearly full, with the exception of the nearly empty one belonging to a girl with red-blond hair.

"Second, we need to thank all of your fellow Gladers. We, as a team, keep this place running. We keep each other alive."

"To the living!" was the next shout. Thomas hoped that the Cranks couldn't hear, but it was probably nothing to worry about as they were extremely far from the gates.

"And finally, we've got some new Greenies here today. I hear the older one is Thomas and the little one is Chuck. It'll be nice to have some new sloppers."

"To the new meat!" came the final call, accompanied by some laughter.

Newt squeezed his shoulder. "It's official now, Tommy. You're a Glader."

Thomas smiled. For once in a very long time, he felt that he belonged and that he was safe. Being near Newt made him feel all the safer. That is, if it was possible for somebody that you've known for less than a day to do that.

 

* * *

 

_Thomas awoke to somebody shaking him furiously. There was screaming, both nearby and distant._

_"Thomas, honey," his mother said softly, but rushed. "We need to get going. It's not safe here in WICKED anymore."_

_Thomas got up without a word. He knew that they were probably being either overrun by Grievers or attacked by people who wanted what they had, but he didn't want to panic, for fear that he'd worry his little brother, Chuck._

_"Where's Dad?" Chuck asked their mother from the bunk above him._

_"He's gone to make sure we can make a clear exit. He's going to meet us outside," she lied. Thomas could already tell from the commotion that, if they were to wait for his dad, they might not make it out alive._

_"Let's go." Thomas offered a fake smile as he got up to go with his mother._

_They moved hurriedly and Thomas' mom cleared each corner with her gun before motioning them by. There was a terrified look in Chuck's eyes, so Thomas decided it best to hold his hand._

_When they approached the exit, they had to run through a large room, and that was when they saw the damage that was done. The doorway behind them led to the main entrance, but they were going out the back. However, that didn't prevent Thomas from seeing it._

_He saw the fire from electrical shortages. He saw the Grievers. Dead, rotting corpses walking around. He made eye contact with his father in the other room, who held a gun as well as an expression of hopelessness. He saw the Griever behind him. He saw the thing eat his dad. That's when Thomas truly knew the world was ending._

_"We've got to go, honey," croaked out his mother's broken voice. Thomas had always admired her strength, but he admired it even more right then._

_They kept running to the back, avoiding certain rooms that would be easy for the Grievers to access._

_Thomas could see it now, the doorway. Pieces of the second floor were beginning to fall and, suddenly it hit him how this safe place, his home for over three years, wasn't so safe anymore. Thomas pushed Chuck in front of him. He wanted his little brother to be safe more than anything else in the world._

_"Tom!" called a familiar voice from behind him. Thomas halted in his tracks but ushered his family to keep going. He turned toward Teresa's voice to see his best friend running toward him._

_Her raven black hair was plastered to her face with sweat and there was pure terror in her sky blue eyes. Thomas began to move down the hall toward her even though he heard his mom yelling from beyond the door. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he knew his mother really wanted both of them to be safe._

_With a loud clang, a beam came crashing down on the ground between them. He could probably still help her over it, but then there was no telling whether or not both of them would make it out of the building alive._

_And right then he made a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life. Thomas turned around and ran out of the building, leaving Teresa behind him to die._

_"What happened?" his mother asked in a worried tone._

_In all of his grief and guilt, Thomas was only able to sob out, "She didn't make it, Mom. She's gone."_

_Thomas' mother wrapped him up in a warm hug. A hug that he didn't deserve. He essentially killed his best friend and he had no idea why._

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Thomas woke up early. He decided to let Chuck keep sleeping as he ventured outside. The brisk air hit him and he rubbed his arms.

Most of the Gladers seemed to still be asleep, hungover, or both. A few were out in the fields, but, other than that, most of them seemed to be inside either the house, the barn, or one of the RVs parked nearby. Thomas wondered where Newt could be. He probably slept in the house, since he was second in command.

"Hey, you! Thomas is it?" yelled a scratchy female voice from somewhere behind him. The brown haired boy spun around to see the girl with the red-blond hair from the night before.

Getting a better look at her, Thomas noticed a few things about her. Mainly that she looked horrible. Not ugly. Horrible. As in it was possible that she was sick, but maybe she was just sad. Her hair was a mess and there were big purple bags hanging from her green eyes. Her skin was extremely pale, and it was also very dirty even though they had working showers in the Glade.

"Yeah," Thomas replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Take a seat," the girl commanded. Thomas immediately sat on a log across from her. She seemed to have a large presence, even though she was thin and only about five feet tall. Maybe she had been some sort of leader once upon of time.

"What's your name?" Thomas asked, not wanting to continue referring to her as "girl with red-blond hair."

"Sonya."

"Nice to meet yo-"

"Cut the klunk, Thomas. I'm here to offer you some well thought out advice from somebody who's been in this place longer than you."

Thomas' eyes widened in fear. This girl was actually a bit terrifying.

"Don't get attached. I know you'll always be attached to your little brother, but definitely don't get attached to anybody else. All that it'll do is hurt you in the end."

"What?" Thomas was confused and perhaps a bit angry. He tried to calm himself down on the grounds that something must have happened to this girl to make her so pessimistic.

"You lose people easily out here, so don't get attached. Especially not to Newt."

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps this girl had been bitten and was already turning into a Crank. "What's so different about Newt?"

"He's ready to fly out of this cuckoo nest."

Thomas was totally lost then. Newt was cool and nice and he belonged in this place. The Glade was his home. Why would he leave?

Sonya must have noticed his confusion so she softened her voice and spoke to him. "Look, Thomas, there are three types of people in this world. The first is the people wondering what happens after. These people are the most innocent, like your brother and maybe you. Next, there are the people who choose to ignore it. That's the majority of us now. We know that the world is all shucked up, but we choose to keep going. Finally, there's the people like Newt. The people that don't care anymore and those people, well, they're pretty much dead already."

Thomas was taken aback by her words. Something bad had definitely happened to her to bring about such a pessimistic viewpoint. Yet, he saw truth in it. That is, all of except the part about Newt. Newt was perfectly fine. Wasn't he?

 

* * *

 

As Thomas trudged back to the barn so that he could wake up Chuck, he almost bumped in to the blond boy.

"Watch where you're headed, Tommy," Newt teased. Thomas immediately turned around to walk with the blond. Chuck could wait. If anybody needed to sleep in, it was him.

"I have a question," Thomas said, extremely aware of the blond's presence beside him.

"Shoot," Newt replied as he walked toward the gardens where they kept certain foods like tomatoes and peppers.

"Why were you out yesterday morning?" Newt froze where he stood, in the middle of leaning over to pick up a shovel. Though Thomas would never say it out loud, he was definitely appreciating the view.

"I was out on a run," the blond replied and carried on with his work.

"Alone?" Thomas knew that he was pushing where he shouldn't, but he wanted to know.

"Yes, alone. I am a strong, able man, Tommy." There was an element of irritation in Newt's voice. This was obviously something that Thomas shouldn't push, but he did anyway.

"Even the strongest people shouldn't go on runs alone these days," the brown haired boy pointed out.

Newt jammed his shovel into the dirt. "Why do you even care about this?"

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Thomas replied, unsure of why he said it.

"Why?" Newt asked in response, pausing and wrinkling his eyebrows as if he were disgusted that somebody would even think about his safety. It hit Thomas like a punch in the gut.

"Because I care about you." It was the honest truth, but that didn't make it the right thing to say at the moment.

"Go get the fertilizer," Newt ordered, changing the topic, "It's behind the silo."

Remembering that Newt was his boss in the Glade, Thomas obeyed and headed back to the silo, which was in a more isolated part of the farm.

He found numerous bags of fertilizer quickly and picked up as many as he could carry, which was only two bags. He hummed a tune that he couldn't quite remember the name of as he began to walk back, hoping that Newt had calmed down a little.

Thomas heard a twig snap and immediately stopped, fear-stricken but, upon looking down at his feet, he saw that he, in fact, was the one to step on the twig. He silently laughed it out for a second.

Suddenly, he heard a groaning sound and whipped around to see the jittery boy from the night before. Except, now he was different. His green eyes were glassed over and he was running toward Thomas. That could only mean one thing. At some point, during the night, he had died and turned into a Crank.

Weaponless, Thomas dropped the bags of fertilizer and began sprinting toward the farmhouse, but, being the clumsy shank that he was, he tripped over his own two feet and landed flat on his face, the Crank not far behind.

Thomas spun around just in time to grip the Crank's shoulders so that he could keep the dead Glader's teeth away from any part of his body. The Crank was stronger and faster compared to most of the others, probably because he didn't have nearly as much time to decompose.

High on adrenaline, Thomas was able to flip around so he was on top of the Crank and; therefore, he had the better hand. The brown-haired boy glanced around desperately for anything he could use for a weapon. In hindsight, he probably should have called for help, but Thomas was a massive idiot and decided that he could handle everything on his own. Because that had all turned out so well for him in the past.

Thomas looked back at the bags of fertilizer when the idea sprang into his head. He gathered up his strength and stretched his left arm as far as he could until he was able to drag one of the bags toward him. He placed it on top of the Crank's face and then stood up. Thomas slammed his foot on the center of the bag repeatedly until the monster stopped moving.

Then, he dragged the blood-covered bag off of the Crank's face and saw the damage that he'd done. The skull was shattered in some locations and there was blood and brain matter everywhere.

Thomas sat down, tucked his knees in, and started crying because he didn't see a Crank anymore. All he saw was a dead boy. A dead boy who's face he had destroyed. Thomas knew that he did what he had to do and that he shouldn't feel guilty but, for some reason, he always did. First, Teresa and now, this.

 

* * *

 

"What did you shucking do?" came an enraged sob fifteen minutes later. Thomas looked up and, through the silent tears, he could see that it was the boy with the eyebrows.

Thomas didn't say anything and wiped away the tears.

"You KILLED Ben!" eyebrow kid screamed. "You're going to pay for this, Greenie. I'm going to feed you to the Cranks myself, you shank!"

"What's going on?" called Alby from a bit away. He was followed by Newt.

The boy with the eyebrows spun around. "This kid murdered my brother!"

Thomas understood. If it were Chuck, he'd blame the closest person. Or himself. Most likely himself.

They walked forward, looking wide eyed at the body and, suddenly there was a whole crowd of people around them.

Alby looked Thomas in the eye. "Did you do this?"

"Yeah, but-"

"See!" screamed Eyebrows. "He's a killer!"

Newt was just staring at Ben's broken body.

"Calm down, Gally. I'm sure the Greenbean had his reasons," spoke Minho from somewhere in the crowd.

Gally's eyebrows seemed to grow even angrier. "Is there an excuse for murder?"

"Check under his shirt," Newt ordered plainly, and one of the boys, Jeff or something, lifted it up to see a big festering wound in the shape of a set of teeth.

"When the hell did he get bit?" Alby wondered aloud.

"Must have been on our last run. Harriet's run. That's probably part of the reason he didn't tell us. He didn't want to add to the grief," Minho concluded.

There was a solemn aura that enveloped them until somebody broke the moment of silence.

It was Gally, with even more anger then he’d had before. "Did that shank have to do that to his face? We need a council meeting so we can officially banish the Greenie."

Alby nodded. "I agree. It'll be Keepers and Thomas only. No need for a peanut gallery chiming in."

"Are you shucking with me?" asked an angry voice. It was Sonya. "You can't possibly punish him for defending himself?"

"This is not up for discussion right now, and when it is, it's not for you to speak on. You aren't a part of this," Newt replied forcefully.

"I am too a part of this!" she screamed at him. "Harriet died on that run too! If she had lied about being bit, turned overnight, and attacked an innocent kid, I'd be happy that he bashed her face in! At least it's over. Nobody else died."

"Sonya, stop," ordered Alby. She stomped away angrily, giving him the one finger salute. Whoever this Harriet girl was, she must have been pretty important to Sonya.

"We will have a meeting by the fire tonight. Only the Keepers and Tommy are invited. Everybody else must stay inside until we are done. Is that clear?"

There was a chorus of "yeah, Newt" as people left.

Gally pushed Thomas and whispered "I hope you get what you deserve, or I’ll have to give it to you myself," into his ear. Thomas gulped. He knew that he had to be there for Chuck. If one of them died or they were kicked out, Thomas would never forgive himself. Suddenly, he understood Gally's pain.

Thomas began to walk silently back up the hill when Zart, the Keeper of the Track-Hoes, came running up, out of breath. "Newt, Alby, there's a new girl here. She says that something bad is coming."

"Take me to her," Newt said, "Alby go make sure Gally isn't killing any small animals or anything."

"You do realize I'm your boss, right?" asserted Alby with a wink as he walked toward the main house. Thomas felt a bit jealous about that wink, even though he had no right to be.

"Thomas, stay here," Newt ordered as Thomas continued to follow him up toward the entrance. He was curious, who could blame him?

Then he saw her. Those familiar blue eyes. Those flowing locks of black hair. "Thomas!" she yelled as she sprinted toward him.

Thomas felt water drip down his cheeks as he wrapped his best friend in a tight hug. Somehow, she had survived. Thomas hadn't killed her after all.

 

* * *

 

That night, the Gladers held a private campfire for the Keepers, Thomas, and Teresa. Thomas stood between the council and the fire, since the problem he had created was the first order of business.

"I say we send him out there all by himself and never let him return," suggested Gally, who was the first to speak.

"Gally, let's not be drastic," said a boy named Zart. "He's an able body, and we sure do need that out in the fields." Farming seemed to be Zart's only worry.

"Dude, Gally's right. This kid is dangerous. Just look what he did to Ben," added a skinny kid named Winston who was in charge of the team that took care of the farm animals, both alive and dead.

"It was self-defense!" protested the main chef, who everybody just called Frypan.

"Did you _see_ Ben's face?! It looked like that chili you made last week," retorted Gally.

Frypan clutched a hand over his heart. "I take great offense to that. My cooking looks and tastes fantastic."

"We're getting off track. Let's get back to Thomas," Alby ordered.

Minho spoke up next. "I think Thomas should take my place as Keeper of the Runners. Sure, he crushed Ben's face, but it wasn't really Ben anymore. We need those kind of guts on my team."

Gally wiped a hand on his forehead. "That's it. Minho's finally gone completely crazy."

Alby rolled his eyes at Gally and turned toward Newt. "What do you think? I'm gonna leave the final decision up to you." Thomas was relieved. Newt would be fair to him.

Newt glanced around at all of the other kids for a moment and then spoke. "I say that we lock Tommy in the cellar for a few days and then let him join the Runners. Not as their Keeper, though. Sorry Minho, but you're not leaving that easily."

Alby nodded. "Well, that's that. Lock him up."

Beth, the Keeper of the Baggers, brought Thomas to the cellar and, before she locked him in, she spoke. "You deserved worse. If it were up to me, I would have killed you."

Thomas laid down and let sleep wash over him. He was exhuasted after such a rough day.

 

* * *

 

_"Tom, buddy, wake up." His mother spoke in a soft voice. He opened his eyes to see her and Chuck standing over him._

_"Is it morning already?" Thomas asked jokingly._

_"We've got to move."_

_Thomas' mom didn't laugh, or smile, or anything. That had all ended with the death of Thomas' father._

_They walked for ten minutes until they reached an abandoned gas station._

_"I'm hungry," Thomas announced," Let's go in."_

_"Thomas, we have enough food in here to last us a while," his mother protested._

_"Please, Mom. I love you," Thomas begged._

_Finally, she gave in and they walked inside. It was mostly empty, but they began to gather what they could._

_"Shut up!" whispered a voice from behind the counter. Thomas pulled his gun and went to check it out._

_"Stand up, hands in the air!" he shouted in a cop-like fashion. Two people slowly stood, arms in the air. There was an older man and a teenage girl. They looked to be Latino._

_"Who are you?" Thomas demanded. His mom and brother had now joined him._

_The man spoke, "I'm Jorge and this is my cousin Brenda. We're just here for food. Probably same as you three. Now chill out, hermano."_

_"Do you have a group?" asked Thomas' mom._

_The girl nodded. "Yeah, just a few miles south of here. You want to join us? I'm sure they'd be glad to see some cute kids."_

_"You think I'm cute?" Thomas joked and he lowered his gun._

_"Don't push it, kiddo."_

_So Thomas and the remaining members of his family followed them blindly, completely unaware of what may lie ahead._

 

* * *

 

"Wake up, Tommy." Thomas peered toward where Newt was leaning in from the cellar entrance. The blond boy looked to be a bit spooked.

"Has it been a few days already?" asked Thomas, genuinely confused. Probably not, since he didn't remember eating.

"We have to leave, shank. Come on."

"Why?" questioned Thomas.

"I'll explain on the way," Newt said as he started to walk away from the cellar. Thomas quickly climbed out and ran to catch up with the blond boy.

"So are you gonna tell me what's up?" asked Thomas as they walked toward the road. Strangely enough the cars were all parked by the woods, headlights bright in the night. He was a bit worried at this point. He could tell that something was off.

"Your girlfriend, Teresa, said that there's a herd of Cranks headed our way. Naturally, certain people blame you for bringing it, but I know that you're a trustworthy kid."

"Teresa's not my girlfriend," protested Thomas.

"Really, I told you that we might die, and that's what you're worried about?"

Thomas shrugged. "At least we'll all die together."

Newt gave a slight smile. "Good that."

"So what's the plan?" asked Thomas.

"Lure them from the woods and walk the other way." That didn't sound like a great action plan.

"We better go fast th-"

"THEY'RE HERE!!!" shouted a voice in the distance.

Newt grabbed Thomas and started to run. "We have to go!"

"But what about my brother?!" Thomas protested. He didn't care about himself. He just wanted Chuck to be safe.

"He's safe," Newt promised. "We moved the younger kids to a safer place an hour ago. We're meeting there." Thomas barely had time to let out a breath of relief.

They were running on the road through the pitch black night when they heard another kid shout in the distance, "THE CRANKS HAVE ALBY!!"

Newt froze. "You go. Down this road three blocks, turn right, and then four more blocks. There should be people waiting for you outside there. I need to go back."

"Newt, you can't save him. He's gone already." Thomas stared pleadingly into the boy's chocolate brown eyes. He felt that, if he left Newt behind, he would be responsible for his death in a way. And Thomas could never deal with that guilt on his shoulders.

Newt shook his head. "You don't understand, Tommy. I have to try. He's the only hope that this group has for surviving."

"Newt," Thomas spoke softly, resting a hand on the blond's shoulder. "There's nothing that you can do. You are their leader now."

"You can lead, Tommy. You're much stronger than I am." Thomas didn't really understand what Newt was going on about.

Thomas shook his head. "They trust you, Newt. Not me. And, besides, you're a lot stronger than you think."

"Tommy, I can't."

Thomas frowned. He believed in Newt. Why couldn't Newt believe in himself? "If you stay, then I stay too."

Then, without another word, they left for the safe house.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at the safe house, all that they found was chaos. The place itself was an abandoned warehouse that didn't seem like it would keep Cranks out. Obviously, they would be moving on pretty soon. And that was a good thing too, because one of the first things that Thomas noticed was yelling.

"You aren't in charge, you shuck! Alby and Newt said that I should hold down the shucking fort until they get here and can move us to a safer location," yelled an angry voice that belonged to Minho.

"No. We want to stay. The Cranks came from this direction. We should be safe here for a while now that they've been lured toward the farm. Why should you be in charge anyway? You've got your arm around that chick but she's the one that brought the Cranks to us!" Thomas heard Gally scream in response.

They turned the corner into the main room where all the yelling was happening, but Gally and Minho didn't seem to notice. Chuck walked over, tears falling down his cheeks, and gave Thomas a big hug. Thomas' whole body relaxed when he realized that his brother was safe in his arms.

The screaming continued.

"I warned you about the Grievers- er Cranks!" yelled Teresa. "Stop pinning klunk on people just because you don't know them."

"Sweetheart, before you and Thomas got here, we had no problems. For years. You two are up to something. You're going to kill us all and then continue on with your happy little life together," Gally said, and by the sounds of it, many members of the crowd seemed to agree.

Teresa snorted. "Please. You don't have to trust Thomas. I don't trust Tom. In fact, he left me to die. But, for the love of god, trust me. This place isn't gonna keep the Cranks out." Her words cut through Thomas like a knife. He had done what he had to do at the cost of his best friend's trust.

"Then let's go before he gets back," said Beth, who seemed to hate him just as much as Gally.

"What about Newt and Alby?" asked Minho. Thomas was a bit offended that he was totally fine with abandoning him. He thought they had developed a friendship over the past few days.

Newt finally stepped forward, grabbing Thomas' hand to pull him closer as well. Thomas blushed a little. "Alby is dead and you shucks really need to pay more attention to your surroundings."

There was a gasp from the crowd and Thomas saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. There was a gun resting in Gally's hands. It could've been there the entire time. The boy pointed it straight at Thomas and fired but, in an unstoppable flash, Chuck jumped in front of Thomas, the bullet sinking deep into his brain. Thomas let out a scream that was a mixture of horror and shock.

"I guess we're even, Thomas. Though, my original intention was just to get rid of you and make it easier on all of us," Gally smirked and, if there was ever anything human in his eyes, it had disappeared. Maybe he had gotten bitten. Maybe he was just crazy.

Seconds later, Gally sunk to the ground, a knife lodged into the back of his skull. Sonya stood behind him with a grim look on her face. "We can't have people here that kill just to kill. We're a team now. We work together. However, crimes shouldn't go unpunished. What it done is done." She really was kind of a badass.

Beth bolted for the door, knowing that her support for Gally would probably make her very unpopular with the other Gladers after Chuck's death.

Newt stood tall. "We leave at first light. You can stay if you want, but all the supplies are coming with."

Thomas was still frozen in shock. "Come on," said Newt. "Come help me get everything organized."

Thomas walked away with Newt, his brother's lifeless body still laying on the ground. In the world that they lived in, there wasn't time to mourn. Sonya was right. The best thing to do was to ignore the constant pain gnawing at your heart.

 

* * *

 

Thomas and Newt counted up the weapons and, for five minutes, they barely said a word.

"The people want me dead," Thomas said, breaking the silence. He was scared. Scared of the others. Scared of himself.

"I won't let that happen, Tommy," Newt responded. "The world needs more people like you. People who can see the good in even the darkest times. I'm leading this group now, but I'll tell you what, you better take over or we're all going to die."

"Why?" asked Thomas, utterly confused.

"Tommy," Newt began, setting down the box of bullets in his hands and looking the brown haired boy in the eyes, "This group needs a leader that would do anything to survive. A few days ago I was about ready to die, to leave everybody in better hands."

"What changed?" Thomas asked, aware that he was probably overstepping his bounds.

"Well, I was about to drive myself out to somewhere where the Cranks would kill me, but all of a sudden I came across these two boys on the road. And for some reason I didn't want them to die. Then, I spent time with the older one and I became incredibly attached to him and, suddenly, I didn't want to die either. I wanted to be with him, despite the risks of attachment."

Thomas scooched a bit closer like the nerd he was. "And maybe he wants to be with you."

Then, they were kissing like it was their last day on Earth. Perhaps because it very well could be. Everything had happened so fast, but when you live in a world where any day could be your last, speed was a necessity. In some deeply twisted way, Thomas was happy in that moment, despite all the sadness that he knew he should be feeling for the people he’d lost.

 

* * *

 

They left early in the morning, headed south. Winter would be approaching soon and, without the supplies they had left behind, there was no way they would survive in this environment. They needed more supplies. Everybody was tired and grumpy, but they marched on. People were gone, notably the adults, lost in the chaos both on the farm and in the warehouse. Their group looked like a funeral march and it pretty much was. Anybody could die at any moment, and it felt like the ghosts of the dead were haunting them, dragging their spirits down. Thomas gripped Newt's hand like it was his only lifeline.

"Where are we going?" asked a red-headed girl, who seemed to be about fifteen.

"Away," replied Newt in a monotone voice.

"Where are we anyway?" Thomas inquired. Before reaching the Glade, he and Chuck had just been wandering for a while, looking for someplace safe, not for a spot on the map.

Minho walked up with a large map that appeared to be sideways. "We're in Illinois. About 20 miles southwest of Champaign."

"I know where to go," Thomas shouted gleefully. For once, he knew how to do something right.

Newt gave him a look. "Well tell us where then, shank." He seemed particularly irritable recently.

"I used to go hunting with my dad down near Carbondale. Sort of near Shawnee National Forest," Thomas replied. "My uncle had a house down there and it's full of guns and survival stuff. Plus the deer are probably overpopulating the area even more without the usual hunting crowds."

Minho grinned. "Sounds perfect. Nice job for once, shank."

Newt crinkled his nose. "If you like to walk. It's going to take us days."

The pride Thomas felt from finding the perfect place made him grin. "It'll be perfect, I promise."

Newt shrugged and looked away. Thomas decided not to inquire further. He cared about Newt, liked him a lot actually, and even though they were sort of a thing now, Thomas respected that he needed his boundaries. Especially after losing so many people so quickly.

 

* * *

 

_Brenda and Jorge led them through the sweltering summer heat for miles. Jorge kept to himself, but Brenda, being around Thomas' age, kept trying to flirt with him._

_"Ya know buddy, at the camp where we're headed, there's plenty of safe places. Perfect for two teenagers to get close," she said, winking one of her dark brown eyes._

_Thomas' mom chuckled and he gave her a look. He didn't really want her "support" at the moment._

_"No thanks," Thomas simply said, cutting her off._

_"Why not, Tom? You got a better offer?" Brenda replied, seemingly offended._

_Thomas offered the girl a fake smile. "You're not really my type."_

_Jorge snorted from where he led the group. "Careful what you say, hermano. Brenda could take you down in an instant."_

_Thomas rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Can you please just tell me about how far we are from this place? Chuck is dying of heat exhaustion right here."_

_Brenda nodded forward. "Straight ahead, you should see it in a moment."_

_When Thomas saw the abandoned factory surrounded by barbed wire fencing, he thought that he and his family had found somewhere safe. A new home. Until he heard a scream in the distance._

_"Run!" a boy with gray eyes and sandy hair yelled in the distance. He was missing an arm and there was a collar on his neck with the chain broken loose. The kid appeared to be trying to climb the fence. "They don't want to help you, they want to eat you!"_

_Thomas pulled out his gun and pushed his brother behind him. He had never been this terrified and disgusted in his life. Jorge already has his mother in his grip, a gun in his hand. Brenda had run down to take on the collared boy._

_"Not so fast, hermano. I got your old lady here and you and I both know a bullet is going in her head if you don't put that gun on the ground," Jorge threatened, and Thomas thought he saw hell in the man's eyes._

_"Thomas, run," pleaded his mother._

_"Shut up!" yelled Jorge._

_"Why are you doing this? Eating people?" Thomas asked. Chuck was sobbing into his back._

_Jorge smiled. "We discovered a trick, hermano. Turns out that human flesh from the unbitten actually builds a temporary immunity to the virus. This way, the bite on my side won't kill me and it won't make me one of those monsters."_

_"You're more of a monster than any of the Grievers. They kill on instinct. You choose to do it," Thomas yelled, preparing to shoot._

_"You got five seconds, hermano," Jorge warned._

_"You're bluffing," Thomas accused, "You need us to be alive."_

_Jorge shook his head and shot the gun, bullet wedging deep into his mother's skull. Thomas immediately fired two shots. One hit Jorge and the other hit Brenda out in the distance. He grabbed his little brother's hand and they ran, as fast and as far as they could until finding shelter for nightfall. The fear overpowered their grief._

 

* * *

 

When they finally arrived, it was cold and pouring rain. Some of the younger kids were seriously worried about tornadoes (Thomas couldn't help remembering his younger brother and his irrational fears) while everybody older than the age of twelve was worried about hypothermia and starvation. They were reduced to about half the original group by the time they arrived in Carbondale around a week later.  Surprisingly not many actually died. Most people just abandoned them after a day or so due to mistrust of Thomas or hatred of long distance walking.

Newt's irritability only increased over the passing days. He yelled pretty much all the time despite what he had said about Thomas taking the lead. It was a sharp contrast to how chill he had been when they met. Thomas supposed he was just exhausted from all the walking because of his limp. Also, he seemed to be physically ill. He just was running a low fever though, so there was really no need to do much worrying.

"Is this the place, Tom?" asked Teresa as the pointed to a cabin on the edge of a wooded area.

"Yeah," Thomas said, observing his uncle's old cabin. It seemed different from when he was a kid. It was wilder. The forest was overgrown, tree branches stretching close to the house, almost as if the woods were stretching toward the cabin, ready to swallow it whole.

Thomas wandered into the cabin, bringing Newt, Minho, and Teresa with him.

"Urgh, what's that nasty smell?" Minho whined.

Newt nodded. "It does kind of smell like something died in here, so let's be careful."

Teresa grinned as she waved around her giant machete. Thomas actually had no idea where she had found that, and it kind of scared him. "Where do we start?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose we should start with whatever is giving off that rancid smell," Thomas shrugged. "I don't want to be attacked by my undead uncle."

They followed the scent, covering their noses with their shirts as they walked. It led them to Thomas' uncle's bedroom then split up to look around. Thomas and Newt were checking the bathroom while Minho guarded the door and Teresa looked through the main room.

"Found the source," called Teresa from where she stood right outside the closet.

"Well, what is it, then?" Newt snapped. They all gave him a look of concern, to which he rolled his eyes.

"Come see for yourself," she replied, stepping back away from the closet.

Thomas hopped over the bed to get a better look. He saw a small white furry body with brown spots laying on the floor of the closet, all skin and bones. His uncle's dog.

"Rest in peace, Milo," Thomas whispered, tears falling down his cheeks. Yeah, he had a bit of a soft spot for animals, but who didn't?

Newt apparently. "Jesus Christ, Tommy. It's just a bloody dog."

They cleared the rest of the house and then buried the dog before they let anybody else in. His uncle must have packed away a few guns and left, not wanting to deal with his dog on the road. There was still plenty of weaponry for them and a bunch of canned goods, which would make getting through the winter even easier.

Thomas gripped Newt's hand tightly like it was his only grip on reality. He was a bit worried that Newt was acting weird because of their relationship. It seemed that he had been off ever since he and Thomas had gotten together.He really liked Newt. If Newt turned on him now, Thomas didn't know if he could handle it.

As all of the remaining Gladers filed into the cabin, which barely fit them all, even with a good portion of the original group missing, Thomas saw Frypan and sighed with relief. He moved forward to tap the boy on the shoulder. "Hey, Frypan can we chat?"

Frypan looked between him and Newt confused. "With both of you?"

"No, I'm going to go find Minho or something," said Newt as he dropped Thomas' hand and trudged away.

"What's up with him?" Frypan asked.

Thomas shook his head. He really wished that he knew. The brown-haired boy just wanted his boyfriend to be safe. "I don't really know, but that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

Frypan nodded. "Okay, man, what's up?"

"Well, how creative can you get with baked beans, because we have more than enough to last us a while," Thomas asked.

Frypan grinned and spoke loudly. "My time has come."

 

* * *

 

They were all sitting around in the den, listening to the rain patter against the side of the house and eating some sort of spicy variation on baked beans that tasted surprisingly good, when they heard somebody trying to open the locked front door. Since, everybody was accounted for, Thomas grabbed his gun and approached the door. Hopefully it was just a Crank, but he wasn't sure that Cranks knew how to turn doorknobs.

Thomas took a deep breath so that he could gather up the courage to answer the door. He was a leader now. This place was his idea. He could deal with whatever was trying to break in.

Then, the door swung open, a key sitting in the lock.

"Jesus!" shrieked the kid of about fifteen years who was standing on the other side of the doorway. He had blue eyes and light brown hair. Then, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Thomas, what are you doing here?"

"Oh my god," Thomas sighed as he wrapped his arms around the boy. It was his little cousin. "I missed you, Aris."

Aris laughed. "Dude, I honestly thought there was nobody left. Where is the rest of your family?"

"Gone," Thomas replied. He hoped that Aris didn't ask why, because he wasn't sure that he ever wanted to relive their deaths in his mind if he could help it.

Aris nodded solemnly. "Yeah mine too." Almost everybody Thomas knew from before was gone. He wondered who could be next.

"I actually have a group here."

Aris smiled. "New friends are almost always a good thing. Unless you get in with the wrong sort of crowd." Poor Aris had no idea.

Thomas pulled him into the den. "Everybody, this is my cousin, Aris."

"Christ, Tommy. You seem to know bloody everybody we've come across since you showed up at our camp."

Thomas didn't know why Newt seemed to be angry at him, or at everything in fact, but he really didn't like it.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, they set up camp in the cabin and got everything organized. Everybody was assigned a job once again and it became clear that this cabin could be their new home for a while. When everything seemed to calm down, Newt grabbed Thomas' arm and pulled him aside.

"Can we go for a hike, Tommy?" Newt asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Sure," Thomas shrugged as he waved Minho over. "Hey Minho, we are gonna go hiking today."

Minho gave them a klunk-eating grin. "Never took you two to be such romantics."

"Shove off, shank," Newt replied rolling his eyes.

Thomas led the way, taking them down a path that he, his uncle, and his dad used to take when they went hunting. It was a bit overgrown now, but the path was still visible among the greenery of the forest.

"This leads to a small but beautiful pond," Thomas explained. "The lake that we have people fishing at is down a different path, so we shouldn't have to worry about interruptions." Thomas winked at Newt, who was holding his hand and staring at him sadly.

"What's wrong, Newt?" Thomas asked, extremely worried. They had only just started dating, but Thomas couldn't afford to lose that.

Newt shook his blond head. "I'll tell you when we get there. I just- I need you to do something for me."

Thomas gave him a small smile as he gazed into Newt's brown eyes and gave his hand a soft squeeze. "You know that I would do anything for you."

"Yeah, that's why we're on this hike."

Thomas was pretty confused to what Newt meant by that. Were they going to have sex or something? No. They didn't have the supplies for that and Newt definitely did not seem to be in that kind of mood.

The rest of their walk toward the pond continued in comfortable silence. There was an air of sadness about them and Thomas couldn't quite figure out why. He knew that whatever the issue was, they could get through it together. He had hope. Somehow, after all of the losses he had suffered, the brown-haired boy still hung on to a shred of hope, and he had Newt to thank for that. Newt was the only thing keeping him from total despair.

When they arrived in the clearing next to the pond, Newt placed a gun in his hands.

"What, why? Are we here to hunt? You know that we have people assigned to do that." Thomas was more confused than ever.

Newt shook his head and lifted up his shirt to reveal a bite in his side. It must have happened during their escape from the Glade, before his arrival at the cellar. "Kill me, if you've ever loved me, kill me. Put me out of my misery."

Thomas was made aware of the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Newt, maybe we can-"

"Shut up! I trusted you to do this. You have to." Newt was crying too. Thomas had never seen him display his sadness like this. He had always tried to keep his emotions locked up inside.

"I- I can't," Thomas whispered. When he said that he would do anything for Newt, he had never imagined this.

"Do it!" Newt yelled. Thomas knew that they were far enough where nobody would hear them. Nobody would be there to rescue them.

"I can't!" Thomas screamed in response, but he kept a grip on the gun, even if it wasn't pointed at the blond.

"Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!"

Thomas and Newt were both loudly sobbing between the words. To an outsider, this would be quite an ugly exchange.

"Newt..." he spoke softly, trying to get through to his boyfriend.

"Do it before I become one of them!" Thomas had never seen Newt look so desperate. He understood why Newt never would want to become a Crank. They still had some time to solve this though. Not much, based on Newt's symptoms, but still some. A day or so until Newt died of the fever.

"I..." Thomas whispered shaking his head.

"KILL ME!" Newt screamed even louder this time, pulling the gun so it rested on his forehead. Newt took one last deep breath and calmed down. He spoke his last words with a soft, serene voice. "Please, Tommy, please."

There was no hope.

With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas pulled the trigger.

 

* * *

 

He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew it was sunset and he was laying on the ground, a screaming sound shrieking in his ears. But, he was alone. The sound was just his imagination or, perhaps, the sound of his guilt and his sorrow.

Thomas looked at Newt's lifeless body. God, his eyes were still wide open. Thomas shut them and picked up the blond.

Then, he did something to prove how much of a coward he was. He picked up Newt and the gun, walked a ways into the murky waters of the pond, and threw them in. He couldn't tell anybody what he had done. The guilt, sorrow, and shame all piled together was just too much.

All Thomas wanted to do was lay down and take a nap. Maybe then he could wake up from the nightmare that he was currently living, but he started hiking back so that he could make it to the cabin before dark. Otherwise Minho might send somebody out to look for him.

He tried his best to defy his own bodily functions and restrain himself from blinking, because every time that he closed his eyes, he saw Newt, dead with a bullet hole in his head.

Thomas looked down to see the blood on his shirt, so he peeled it off and tossed it into the woods. He wanted to forget what he had done, but he just couldn't.

When he reached the camp, it was dark. Minho ran up to him and began shaking him violently. "Where have you been? We were worried. Where's Newt?"

Thomas didn't reply. He could barely hear Minho over the artificial screaming sound playing on a loop in his ears.

Minho must have seen his vacant expression because he stepped back and asked again, more sternly, "Where is Newt?"

Thomas broke down and started bawling. "I can't- He- he was bit so he ran away. Knocked me out so I wouldn't follow. He's gone."

Minho's face fell and he started crying too. He must not have caught the lie, because he never asked Thomas about it again.

 

* * *

 

A few days passed and Thomas spent most of them crying and barely eating. At this point, he mostly just felt numb. He didn't feel like he was truly human after what he had done.

He saw Sonya sitting in one of the cabin's bedrooms and sat down next to her.

"How do you do it?" Thomas asked in a sad, monotone voice, "How do you get over your one true love?”

The blonde girl looked at him spoke, her voice cracking in sadness.

"You don't."


End file.
